Over the Border and Through Carnaval

< p>[#image: /photos/53db1ae6dcd5888e145e3e28]||||||< br>< em>Good-bye, Brazil; hello, Venezuela: Crossing the border by foot.< p>< em>Follow our < strong>< ahref="http://www.concierge.com/cntraveler/contests/dreamtrip2007/winner">2007 Dream Trip Contest winner through South America and Antarctica. And don't forget to enter our < strong>< ahref="http://cntraveler.com/dreamtrip">2008 Dream Trip Contest. The prize? A $25,000 trip (designed by Wendy) to the destination(s) of your dreams.< p>[#image: /photos/53db1a7b6dec627b14a18f1b]||||||< p> < p>By < ahref="http://www.genepembrokephotography.com/bio.html">Gene Pembroke< p>I wake up early in Brazil, manage the mile or so walk from my hotel to the border, and cross over into Venezuela.< p>I catch a taxi to the Santa Elena bus station, but before we go there the driver pulls into a dark warehouse on the edge of town. Inside, a small army of long-haired, mean-looking mugs in black suits suck on cans of beer. After we enter the building, the gate is slammed shut and locked. Hmmmmm.

I ask why we are here, and the question is ignored. The driver leaves. While looking for something with which to defend myself I try to remember how many bad action movies ended in places like this. "I'll see you in hell," is on the tip of my tongue when suddenly the driver reemerges and jumps back in the car. The gate is raised and we cruise back out into the bright, warm, safe sunlight. I relax the kung fu grip I have on my pen and put the cap back on it. The driver looks at me in the rear-view and apologizes, but he really had to use the bathroom.

We hit the terminal just in time for me to grab a coach bound for El Callao, where I will be celebrating Carnaval. It's a seven-hour ride. Speaking of bad action films, The Marine is shown during this trip. At a roadside greasy spoon, the proprietor does not feel that I have eaten enough, so she refuses to charge me anything. (For the record, I think I had quite a bit, but after three attempts to pay, I accepted her generosity.)

The day starts out sunny but when we finally arrive in El Callao it is pouring. The sky is a beautiful pink and purple, and the rain is warm. I march through the rain, making my way through crowds of drunken dancers done up as demons and devils as I carry two heavy bags and a bottle of rum. I fit right in. Let Carnaval begin!

The next few days are pretty much exactly the same. So, to cut down on possible repetition and boredom, and to make a difference in this crazy world, I have combined the rest of my Carnaval experience into one energy-efficient blog entry that will cover the remaining three days of the festival while using the same amount of gas as a one-day post. A little bunny just winked at me!